His full lips flatten as he considers me, and his eyes rove over my face like he’s debating whether to answer.
“At first it was because I didn’t trust you,” he finally admits after he glides us into a small circular pass around the floor that earns him several more rips in his jacket, a small gash on his chin, and half a dozen new cuts on his hands. The startled sputtering and clucking of the surrounding crowd begins to sound like white noise before it fades altogether. “I couldn’t tell if you were pretending not to know what was happening or if you genuinely had no idea. I decided to let it play out.”
“Is that why you put me in your rookery, or was it really just for my protection?” I ask as I stare into his now stormy blue eyes. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to this question, but I want to see just how forthcoming the commander is going to be.
“I knew from the second I tasted your blood in Lairwood,” he confesses. “That’s why you’re in my rookery and inourmating suite.”
Shocked, I draw back and stare at him. I thought my injuries in the dungeon were what set things in motion, but Lairwood? I study every inch of his face as he weaves and twirls us across the floor. He doesn’t let me stumble or overthink what I’m doing. In his hands, I look like I’ve spent a lifetime in ballrooms doing nothing but this.
I sigh. He’s gorgeous, capable, and dastardly cunning. It’s a lethal combination I wish I didn’t find so fucking enticing.
“I didn’t request a meeting with your father or try to broker any kind of a deal,” I tell him, deciding it’s best to get ahead of the questions he’s already asked me. This way I can offer him enough slices of the truth to make him think he has the whole pie. “He just showed up. It was completely unexpected and I have no idea where he came from, but he wanted to talk. So we did.”
“And where were your guards?” he asks, evidently troubled by the possibility that one of his Wing kept something from him.
“I was in the keep alone; they weren’t with me.”
Aeson draws back this time. His eyes are wide with shock but banked with fury. “And how the fuck did you manage that?” he all but growls.
“That, I’m not going to answer,” I tell him calmly but firmly.
His beautiful blue eyes narrow on me, and he pulls me even tighter against his body. A sharp crackle fills my senses and then a tinkling crash draws my attention. I track the noise and find several crystal butterflies on the ground, each with a small trail of smoke rising from their now inert bodies.
I glare up at Aeson, my pique rising even further at the satisfied smirk stretching wide across his face.
“And what do I get tofrywhen you don’t answer one of my questions?” I ask, virulent syrup dripping over every syllable as I fight the possessive need to protect my remaining fluttering protectors.
He contemplates the question for a second. “For every question I don’t answer, you can have one weapon of your choosing,” he offers, and I almost stumble in shock.
“Done,” I immediately agree, and he laughs at my overeager display. If it gets me weapons though, he can laugh at my expense all the way to the armory.
“Why did you make a deal with my father?” he starts, but I shake my head.
“No, it’s my turn.”
He gives me a conciliatory nod and makes a show of closing his mouth. A mouth I find myself transfixed by until he clears his throat, and I shake off my sudden stupor.
“How is a bond completed? Is it just fucking or is there more to it?”
Aeson chokes on air, and our steps slow briefly while he collects himself. His eyes are like shimmering aquamarines when he looks back down at me. His entire countenance begins to smolder, and he makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a purr as his gaze drops to my lips.
“Tell me you’re mine, Claws, and we’ll leave right now and go somewhere I can show you, at length, exactly how a bond is completed.” He nuzzles my neck, brushing his lips up the side of my throat and skimming them across my jaw before he pulls back to avoid losing an eye to a razor-winged assailant.
Desire pools between my thighs, and I bite back a whimper. If he keeps this up, blood isn’t going to be the only thing dripping all over the floor by the time this dance is done.
“Answer the question,” I demand breathily, ignoring the ache in my core and the fire in his eyes.
Aeson inhales long and slow, scenting me, and the low groan he releases is slightly pained, entirely too satisfied, and edged with possession. His hand on my back dips lower until the tips of his fingers caress the tops of my ass cheeks. My nipples become stiff, sensitive peaks against his chest as we spin and slink into a third pass along the dance floor. Warm blood trickles from his cuts onto me, and it feels like a sensual caress as it drips slowly down my back and arms.
“Fucking is part of it,” he finally answers. “Blood also has to be exchanged. There’s a magical aspect to it that our dragons have sole control over, and there are vows, although those are more ceremonial than essential. But once you’ve done all of that, you’re bonded for life.”
I nod in understanding and grow contemplative. When I agreed to mate Aeson, I thought there would be time before I’d have to fulfill my end of the bargain—at least as long as it took to plan the ceremony—but this connection between us changes things. If the drive to bond progresses as quickly as Lorn said, Aeson and I need to mate sooner rather than later, which means I need to re-think the timeline for phase two with the Syphons.
I focus back on the scion and answer his question.
“I thought your interest in me was based solely on political advantage,” I explain. “I was willing to trade that currency for something that I wanted, something that only your father could help me access. I thought it was nothing more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. I didn’t know about the bond or what it meant. But, knowing doesn’t change my decision. I gave my word and I stand by it.”
“And what is it that you wanted so badly that you were willing to trade yourself for?” he demands, and I can’t tell if his question is laced with indignation or intrigue.
